Caught in the middle

It’s funny the little bits of light and lucidity I remember

Addy, Coke, vodka, dope, pot, your hand

Walking till I almost felt sober

Brooklyn winter breath

Wanting until the opportunity was impossible

Close stinging kisses

Drunk hands pulling at limbs

Give up your last and don’t let it happen

Tell me you don’t care when your body does

You find it and appear

You last until I give up

You find it with another and brag

You let them

You send me

To the furthest edges of your

Feeling something

A call with desperation and tears in your voice

What number call was I?

At what point am I your last resort?

Because you remember a memory that felt real

How did it happen again

Up against a wall outside the bar

New York City neighborhood ghosts

Live in me like dreams of your childhood

Escaping mendacity

How can I make you feel


Again                      – A. Dann


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